Scales
by msannomalley
Summary: There's a monster loose in the game preserve!
1. Chapter 1

"Dude, could you hook me another one?" Tad Webster shouted in the general direction of a group of boys standing around a black Camaro. "I'm tapped out!"

One of the boys, a brown-haired varsity tight end with a severe case of acne and three letters in football, reached into the cardboard case of Budweiser, grabbed a can, and tossed it to Tad Webster. "Hut, hut, hike!" he shouted, tossing the can back to Tad.

The red and white can sailed in Tad Webster's direction. Tad, the first string wide receiver for the Sleepyside Wildcats, put his hands up and caught the beer can.

"Hey Webster!" Dougie Van Handel shouted. "Nice catch! We should get you drunk before every game and then maybe you'd actually catch some balls sometime!"

Tad cracked open his beer and replied with a one finger salute.

As was tradition on Friday nights after football games, players and some students gathered at the end of Louis Road to celebrate another game in the books. Although with the way the Wildcats played lately, the team and the fans were celebrating escaping another undignified domination with some of their dignity intact.

Louis Road was an out of the way dead end road behind Matthew Wheeler's property. It was a place where kids gathered to race cars, make out, or have beer bashes. It was out of the way from the prying eyes of parents and teachers.

This particular October night was thick with the warmth of Indian summer. That distinctive scent of autumn leaves mingled with the scent of malt, barley, hops, beer sweat, perfume, cologne, and weed. Leaves crunched underfoot. Laughter and conversation mixed with ample amounts of hair metal emanating from a boom box perched on the hood of a '69 Dodge Charger that was in need of extensive body work. Occasional snatches of people attempting to sing along with the hair band of the moment then dissolving into laughter or belching was heard among the din.

Hulking three hundred pound offensive lineman and senior Chester "The Tank" Worthington ambled over to the stash of beer and helped himself to his fifth can of Budweiser. He held the beer in his hand, regarding it with a sense of bleary awe. Then he stood with his feet planted about two feet apart. Tank popped the top on his beer, brought the can up to his lips, and bent backwards as the amber liquid slid down his throat, drawing the entire contents of the can in one shot. Then Tank stood up ramrod straight, smacked his lips, and belched loud enough to scare the owls from the trees. "Ew, gross!" A feminine sounding shout came from the distance, but Tank ignored her.

Two freshmen who weren't technically invited to this party, but showed up anyway, looked suitably impressed with The Tank. Chester looked over at the boys with a grave expression on his face. "Beer bongs! We don't need no stinkin' beer bongs!" he slurred to the boys before ambling off into the darkness.

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch.

"Ohmigod, Angie! I saw the cutest little sweater at the mall last weekend!"

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch.

"Yeah, dude. It ain't much. It needs some new paint, new suspension, and a new engine, but once I soup up this bad boy…"

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch

"…and he put his hand up my skirt and then he…"

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch

"That's nothing! Last summer, at the cottage, I woke up with my head on the toilet seat. Last time I'll ever drink Goldschlager and Jolt!"

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch

"You know, Stacy, I've never noticed before, but that Mart Belden is kind of hot."

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch

'_Cause baby we'll be_

_At the drive in_

_In the old man's Ford._

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch

"…It was awesome, man! I swear that girl can suck a golf ball through a garden hose…"

Crunch, shuffle…Huh? Tank strained his ears to hear the rest of that conversation.

_Behind the bushes_

'_Til I'm screamin' for me_

_Down the basement_

_Lock the cellar door_

Shuffle, shuffle…

_And baby, talk dirty to…_

Shuffle… CRASH!

The bulky silver boom box went flying off the hood of the car, landing on the ground with a sickening crunch. The back panel came loose; spilling eight D sized Duracell batteries into the darkness. Everything went eerily still at that moment.

"Good one, Tank!" a disgruntled party-goer shouted.

"Now what are we supposed to do without music?" a girl wondered.

"Looks like Tank is tanked," snickered Dougie Van Handel.

Shrimpy Davis marched up to Tank. "TANK!" he shouted, looking up at the hulking offensive lineman. "You trashed my brother's boom box! He's gonna kill me!"

Chester "the Tank" Worthington looked around, perplexed. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't see who it was. His brow puckered in confusion for a moment, but then relaxed when something else occurred to him.

"I gotta pee," he announced solemnly to the crowd.

Crunch, shuffle, shuffle, crunch. Tank ambled off into the woods for a bit of privacy. When he reached a cluster of trees that afforded him some privacy, he took a flat-footed wide stance in front of one tree. He fumbled with the buttons on his jeans. In a moment of clarity, Tank realized that Levi's 501 Button Fly jeans were not really a wise choice in pants when attending a beer bash. However, he did manage to get the buttons undone just in the nick of time. Tank sighed in relief as he heard the sound of liquid hitting tree bark.

As he was doing his business, Tank went through his mental Rolodex of the girls he knew and knew of, trying to figure out which one had the ability to suck a golf ball through a garden hose.

Snap, crunch.

_What was that? _Tank wondered. _Probably squirrels._ Tank went back to his thoughts.

Snap, crunch.

Tank went still as the source of the sound came closer. He tried to turn around, but since he was still in the process of "going" and it was dark out, he could not see.

Snap, crunch.

Tank finished his business and tucked his bits back into his Jockeys. He started fumbling with his fly buttons.

Snap, crunch.

Tank turned around, squinting in the dark. There was little moonlight that night, but what little there was showed that the individual was generous in height.

Tank smiled the blissfully ignorant smile of a young man who drank five cans of Budweiser as if they were shots of Jaegermeister. "Hey, Taylor," Tank slurred. "Almost done, man. Hold on."

Taylor leaned in close to Tank's face. He spread his arms out and hissed at the drunken football player.

At that moment, a sliver of light from a departing partier's headlights, showed red glowing eyes and green skin. In his state, Tank knew this was not Taylor. The light distracted the creature. It winced from the brightness.

Tank, in a moment of clarity, gave the creature a shove and ran back towards the party, his pants sliding down towards his ankles as he ran.

* * *

**Notes: **The song lyrics quoted are from the Poison song "Talk Dirty to me".


	2. Chapter 2

**Scales**

_The following Monday…_

Fifteen year old Trixie Belden grabbed her history text and notebook in preparation for her first class of the morning. She was proud of herself that she buckled down and finished her research paper on the Reconstruction Era this weekend instead of going to the after game party at Shrimpy Davis's invitation. She felt that if she'd gone instead of doing her homework like she should have, she'd be letting her brother Brian down. Brian Belden, Trixie's older brother, was a freshman at the University of Wisconsin. Trixie was happy that her brother was going to a good school to study to become a doctor, but she sometimes wished he hadn't gone so far from home. Even though she didn't miss the teasing, she missed her older brother's calming presence and level headed common sense.

The other Bob Whites, with the exception of Brian and Jim Frayne, were all students at Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School. Jim Frayne was a freshman at Harvard. Trixie, her best friend Honey Wheeler and Diana Lynch were all fifteen and all sophomores. Trixie's other brother Mart was sixteen and a junior, while their friend Dan Mangan would turn seventeen around Christmas. Dan was also a junior. _At least we're not stuck with a car and no one to drive it, _Trixie thought. Both Mart and Dan had their driver's licenses.

Trixie headed down the hallway towards her history class. When she arrived in the room, she slid into her seat and she took her report and set it on top of her text book. Around her, students were buzzing about something. She leaned over towards Kathy Vandervelden. "What's going on?" Trixie asked.

Kathy favored black nail polish and heavy black eyeliner. Unlike many girls in school, Kathy did not crimp her hair or try to make it achieve heights that hair physically could not achieve without some sort of chemical assistance. Her dark brown hair was straight, but she touched it up with a dark purple streak in it. She favored black clothing. Today, her outfit consisted of black leggings under a straight black skirt that fell about four inches above her knees and Doc Martens. She wore a black blazer which was in stark contrast to the white shirt underneath it.

"Rumor has it we missed quite the party on Friday night, Trix," Kathy said. "Tank Worthington got the bejeesus scared out of him."

"Tank?" Trixie replied. "What on Earth could have scared him?"

Kathy never got to answer because at that moment, the bell rang and Mr. Wendtlandt entered the room. Mr. Wendtlandt did not tolerate talking in his classes.

"Good morning, class," Mr. Wendtlandt greeted. "If I could have your reports that are due today…"

***

Honey Wheeler took her seat in her first period Geometry class. There was the usual Monday morning recap among some of the kids about how much they drank and how wasted they all got over the weekend. Honey usually tried not to pay much attention, knowing that a lot of it was exaggeration. She always stopped listening when the conversation turned to how bad the hangover was the next morning.

"…and he came running back to the party with his pants around his ankles…"

_Nothing new, _Honey thought. There was always some story about couples getting caught in the bushes doing things they wouldn't want their mothers to know about.

"I heard Tank was crying like a little girl when he came back," stated Marvin Easton.

"Tank Worthington?" Honey asked incredulously.

"Yep," Dougie Van Handel replied smugly from across the aisle.

"What happened?" Honey asked.

"I heard Tank saw a badger and it tried to attack him," piped up one girl.

"I heard it bit him the rear end," a boy added.

"I heard that it was a stray dog that was foaming at the mouth," said yet another.

Honey looked at the students incredulously and shook her head. Oh the crazy stories people come up with when they have been drinking.

***

Mart Belden slid his tray along the rails as he made his way through the lunch line. "No beets," he told the blue-haired lunch lady who held a large serving spoon loaded down with the crimson vegetable. The lunch lady dumped the heaping spoonful of beets on Mart's plate anyway. Mart grimaced. He was infamous for his large appetite, but he drew the line at beets.

The two students behind Mart in line were talking excitedly about something.

"…and he was bitten in the leg by a rabid badger."

"I heard it was a wildcat that came down from the Catskills that tried to bite his pants off."

Mart just rolled his eyes. He grabbed a carton of milk and made his way to the table where the others were waiting for him. Along the way, he heard snatches of conversation.

"…it was a copperhead that slithered up his pants leg…"

"…Shrimpy Davis's brother's boom box got trashed…"

"…he peed on a wino that was asleep in the woods and the wino had a knife…"

"…I heard it was Principal Stratton. You know he's been trying to bust up beer parties…"

"…she had a hickey on her neck the size of a baseball…"

"…he saw the aliens and he ran away before they could do the anal probe…"

Mart reached the usual table where the other Bob-Whites were sitting. He set his tray down between his sister and Diana Lynch and took his seat. "Who was chased by a rabid badger into the waiting clutches of a catamount, who then tossed them into a spitting nest of copperheads only to be rescued by a knife-wielding wino that fought off the aliens before commencement of the anal probe?"

"Huh?" Trixie asked her brother blankly. He looked at his sister curiously.

"What's got everyone so worked up?" Mart asked.

"Tank Worthington," Diana explained. "He saw something in the woods last Friday night at the big after-game part. Jane Morgan said that Tank came running back from the woods with his pants around his ankles."

Honey stabbed at her serving of meatloaf. "Marvin Easton said Tank was crying like a little girl." She speared a chunk of the bland meat dish and popped it into her mouth.

"I heard from Kathy Vandervelden that Larry Fuller interrupted Tank and Miss Craven in the game preserve," Trixie remarked dryly. Miss Craven was the strict, elderly English teacher whose fashion sense decided that it liked the year 1964 enough to make that time period its permanent residence. Miss Craven, it had to be said, was neither a mod nor a rocker, fashion-wise.

Mart and Dan both simultaneously shuddered at the sudden and unwelcome mental images that invaded their minds. Eager to get that mental image out of his mind, Mart looked at the other Bob-Whites.

"I heard the badger theory," Honey replied. "Except it wasn't rabid."

Mart turned to Dan and Diana. "What have you heard?" he asked them.

"Tank saw the Tarrytown defensive line and acted on instinct," Dan remarked with a grin. The others at the table laughed at the reference to Sleepyside's dismal performances on the football field.

"Anyone ask Tank what he saw?" Trixie asked, off-handedly. Mart looked at his sister, a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Tank's lips are sealed tighter than old Mrs. Gordman's girdle," Dan said with a smirk. Mrs. Gordman was a cranky old woman that kept to herself unless someone stepped on her lawn. Then she lumbered after the offender with a rolling pin in hand, bellowing after the offender to "get the hell off my lawn."

"Ewww," Trixie exclaimed. "I'm eating here, Dan!"

"That's for the Miss Craven rumor," Dan replied. "Paybacks really suck, don't they?" he added before popping a tater tot into his mouth and smiling smugly at Trixie.

"Tank probably saw a squirrel and freaked out," Diana explained. "You know how people are when they're plastered."

"And you know how rumors get started in this school," Honey explained.

"And how kids like to talk," Dan added. "It's nothing more than someone's drunken and overactive imagination."

"You're right, Dan," Trixie agreed.

Mart looked at his sister, noting the absence of a certain look in her eye. "Are you okay, Trix?" he asked.

"Fine," Trixie replied. "Why do you ask?" She gave her "almost-twin" a pointed look.

"Nothing," Mart replied, leaving it at that.

Mart poked at the congealed grease on his own serving of meatloaf. "You're right, Dan" he said, contemplating making his culinary line at beets extend into the shapeless gray gelatinous mass that the school had the audacity to call "Mom's Meatloaf". "It's probably nothing."

_Later that week…_

The young farm boy turned Jedi Knight took one final mighty swing with his light saber, causing the dark Lord of the Sith his downfall.

"Let's get out of here before the Empire destroys the forest moon of Endor!" the blonde Jedi shouted to his two comrades. He started running, but stopped when he noticed that one of his comrades would not budge.

"Come on, Terry," the blonde hero urged.

"No," Terry said. "I'm not playing anymore."

"C'mon," the blonde hero urged again.

"No," Terry insisted. "I'm not playing anymore."

"Huy mfot" asked third companion, a boy wearing the mask that was all that remained of his Chewbacca costume from last Halloween.

"What?" asked Terry. "I can't understand you with that stupid mask on."

The third boy pulled off the Chewbacca mask. "I said 'Why not?'"

Terry crossed his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "Why does _he_ always get to be Luke Skywalker?" he demanded of the blonde hero. "Why can't I get to be Luke Skywalker for once?"

"Luke Skywalker" put down his makeshift cardboard wrapping paper tube light saber. "Because I'm blonde and it's my treehouse," he replied. "And I'm the oldest, too."

"And he's the whiniest of us all," "Chewbacca" replied dryly. "He's a perfect Luke."

"I am not, Larry Lynch!" "Luke" retorted. "You take that back or you can't play in my treehouse anymore!"

"I was only kidding, Bobby," Larry replied. "Relax." To Terry, his twin brother, Larry said, "Why do you want to be Luke Skywalker?"

"Luke is way cooler than being a dumb old Ewok," Terry Lynch replied. "Especially an Ewok named Skippy. There were no Ewoks named Skippy in _Return of the Jedi_, Bobby Belden!"

"What's wrong with the Ewoks?" Bobby wanted to know.

"They're stupid," Terry and Larry said in unison.

Bobby picked up his cardboard light saber and swatted it at Terry. "Skippy the Wonder Ewok is dead. Darth Butkus killed him…"

Terry and Larry dissolved into a fit of giggles. "You said 'butt kiss'!" Larry gasped. Both boys fell to the ground, convulsing with laughter.

Bobby scowled at the two before dissolving into laughter himself. When the boys composed themselves, Bobby asked Terry, "Who do you want to be?"

"Han Solo," Terry replied.

"Okay," Bobby said. "You're Han Solo." Then the game continued.

Bobby Belden and the male Lynch twins, Larry and Terry, were fortunate enough to have the day off from school that Thursday because of an accidental water pipe break in the elementary school. It seems that Jed Burton, the elementary school custodian, had a few too many Jack and Cokes down at Olyphant's bar on Hawthorne Street and decided that after bar close was as good a time as any to go into work. As a result, classes at the elementary school were canceled while Druck's Plumbing was called in to fix the damaged pipe, a professional cleaner came in to take care of the water damage and Jed Burton was escorted home to sleep it off. Later that day, Jed would be relieved of his janitorial duties.

The boys were acting out their own interpretation of the _Star Wars _universe for most of the afternoon in the Wheeler's game preserve. Bobby Belden was proud owner of a tree house that the Wheeler's groom and Dan Mangan's uncle, Bill Regan built for the little boy. The tree house was not far from Louis Road.

Not owning watches, the boys got so wrapped up in their game, they didn't notice the shadows growing longer and the light growing a little dimmer. Finally, Larry spoke up. "You guys, I think maybe we should go home before it gets too dark."

Bobby looked up at the shadows. He wasn't afraid of a piddly issue such as the dark. He once went "kitty hunting" in the game preserve in the dead of February. But Moms and Dad would be angry if Bobby came in late and they'd be even more upset if a search party had to be called out to find him and the Lynch Twins.

"We should," Bobby agreed. "Wait here while I go and get my flashlight." Bobby, at the urging of his oldest brother Brian, kept a flashlight in his tree house for emergency purposes. Bobby ran off towards the tree house. Terry and Larry stood by, listening to the rapid sound of the leaves as they crunched underneath Bobby's feet as he ran. The sound stopped once Bobby reached the ladder.

As the daylight diminished, the air rapidly lost its warmth. The twins shivered a bit while they untied their jackets from around their waists and put them on. The woods grew still as the animals settled down for the night. It was almost too quiet.

Terry and Larry stood quietly, waiting for Bobby to find the flashlight.

_Rattle, flap, flap, crunch_

Larry gave a start. He hoped Terry didn't see him. Unfortunately, Terry did see Larry.

"What's the matter? Scared of the dark?" Terry jeered at his twin.

"No, I'm not!" Larry said stoutly.

"Yes, you are," Terry said. "Big baby scared of the dark!"

"Am not!" Larry retorted. "I was just startled by the bird flying out of the tree."

"What bird?" Terry wondered. "I didn't see no bird."

"There was, too, a bird!" Larry insisted. "It was over there." He pointed up at the dim outline of the gnarled branches of an old oak tree devoid of its leaves.

"Was not," Terry retorted. "It's just your mind playing tricks on you."

"Never mind," Larry grumbled. The twins fell into silence again.

Terry would never let his brother know, but being in the woods at twilight made him nervous, too. He wished that Bobby would hurry up, get the flashlight, and come back so they could go home. Cook was making beef stroganoff for supper that night, and Terry loved beef stroganoff. Terry decided to keep his mind on Cook's stroganoff. It was better than thinking about the dark and noises and the fact that Bobby should have found that flashlight by now.

A sudden noise startled Terry from his thoughts of sour cream, beef, mushrooms and garlic, and wide egg noodles. Terry jumped a bit, his heart feeling like it was being held in a pair of vise grips.

"Aahh-CHOO!" Larry sneezed.

Terry frowned and he felt his cheeks flame with embarrassment. There was no way that Larry could find out that Terry had been scared. Terry decided to get even.

"Did you hear what Jonny Vandervelden said at school yesterday?" asked Terry suddenly.

"No, what?" Larry wondered.

Terry leaned in closer to his brother, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial way. "Well, Jonny said that his sister Kathy said that Tank Worthington the football player saw a monster in the woods last Friday night."

"He did not!" Larry retorted. "You're making that up, Terry Lynch!"

"Am not!" Terry replied. He made crossing motions over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

The twins fell silent. The only sound was the groans and creaks and rattles of the bare tree branches tangling together in the breeze. It was as if the woods had become an asthmatic old dowager with bad knees walking down the drive to the mailbox in the damp chill of November. Except it was only October, early evening, dry, and the shadows had now taken over. The twins thought to themselves that it seemed like Bobby had been gone for two hours.

"What did it look like?" Larry asked in a small voice.

"What did what look like?" Terry replied.

"The monster, stupid," Larry retorted. "The one Jonny was talking about."

"It was ten feet tall," Terry began. "And covered in lots of red hair."

"Bigfoot?" Larry wondered.

"No," Terry replied. "Not Bigfoot. This one was on four legs, sort of like a dog. It had this massive head, and big, huge eyes that glowed this weird yellow color. And it had one big lobster claw for one it's paws, too. And a scorpion's tail. It had a scorpion's tail."

"You're putting me on," Larry said in disbelief. Larry knew that Terry liked to exaggerate and tell tall tales. Tales such as the time he saw Mr. Maypenny driving Grandpa Crimper's pickup truck down Albany Post Road blasting Foghat songs out the window.

"I'm only repeating what Jonny told me," Terry replied. "I'm not making anything up."

The twins fell silent again. The wind began to whine through the trees.

"Did it have fangs?" Larry asked after five minutes.

Terry pretended to think. "Yeah," he said finally. "It had one fang that stuck straight out of its mouth like a spear. And it was yellow, too. A yellow spear-tooth that dripped green ooze from all the cavities in it. It was poison green ooze."

Larry shuddered.

"The same green ooze drips from its stinger, too," Terry added. "Its breath smells like boys' bathroom at the fairgrounds."

"Ewww!" Larry exclaimed.

The boys fell silent again. Finally, Larry asked his brother, "What kind of noise does it make?"

"We-e-e-e-ellll," Terry said slowly. "It kind of growls. It growls and then it hisses like a snake, but then it screams like Vickie does when you pull on her pony tail." Vickie was one half of the other set of Lynch twins. Victoria and Madeline Lynch were in Kindergarten. While their mother was obsessed with having things in matching sets, including the names of her children, their father said that one set of rhyming names was quite enough.

Larry shuddered once again.

"And then, when it's cornered, it hisses and then it makes a noise that sounds like whenever Mrs. Keller scratches her fingernails on the chalkboard at school."

Larry scrunched up his face and put his hands over his ears as if he were in excruciating pain. "I hate that noise!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, Larry," Terry replied with a touch of sarcasm. "Everybody does."

The boys fell silent after that exchange. A light breeze picked up, making the tops of the trees sway. Their golden and brown and red leaves made pattering sounds as they brushed the tree branches, drifting downward until they met with the soft ground. The forest picked up its nightly song, the song changing with each season.

Winter's song was mostly silent, other than the icy wind wailing through the bare trees on some nights. Most animals were asleep for the season. Winter's song was desolate, cold, and alone.

In the spring, the song picked up but it was light and soft, with new leaves brushing and waving in the gentle breeze. Birds' wings rustled softly as they settled in for the night. Light scampering sounds of the young animals on ground soft from the melting snows were heard. Occasionally, the soft patter of spring rains on leaves punctuated parts of the song.

The forest's song reached its crescendo in the summertime with full grown leaves brushing against each other in the warm summer breezes. Night birds, bats, and insects added their harmonies to the melody with their humming, their calls, and the swishing of wings in flight. The symphony reached its bombastic climax when the skies turned dark, lightening flared, thunder boomed and cracked, and the clouds opened up and spread rain upon the earth.

Now it was autumn, and the song changed again, growing quieter with each passing day. The calls of passing birds as they flew south for the winter accentuated the song. The humming of insects was replaced with the swishing of the falling leaves. Animals scurried about the woods, rustling through those fallen leaves as they gathered their stores for the winter, when the forest's song became desolate, cold, and alone once more.

_Shuffle, swish, shuffle, swish…_

A new musician with a new instrument joined in the song. The twins turned and exchanged glances. "Did you hear that?" Larry whispered to his brother.

"Yeah," Terry whispered back. He placed his index finger over his mouth and went, "Shhh." He crouched down, turning from side to side, trying to find the source of the sound.

_Shuffle, swish, shuffle, swish…_

"Hey, guys!" Bobby exclaimed. "Whatcha doing?"

Both Lynch brothers jumped. Larry clutched onto his twin. "Geez, Bobby," Terry said, annoyed. "What did you have to go and scare us like that for?" Larry hurriedly let go of his brother and calm his breathing. He hoped Bobby didn't see him act like a big baby

"Sorry," Bobby replied.

"What took you so long with the flashlight?" Larry wanted to know.

"I had to find batteries, "Bobby replied. "I thought they were in my baseball card collection, but they weren't. I had to look in the dark. It took a long time, 'cause I couldn't see, you know. You want to know where I finally found them?"

"Where?" Larry asked, impatience tingeing his voice. He was still a bit jumpy.

"In the _My Little Pony_ heads collection," Bobby replied.

Larry and Terry exchanged glances. "You collect _My Little Ponies_?" Larry laughed.

"Just the heads," Bobby replied. "I'm not freak or anything like that."

"Oh," the boys replied. "Okay."

"Now that you have the flashlight," Terry said. "Let's go home."

"Yeah," Larry agreed, with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Bobby seemed to catch Larry's nervousness. "Why?" he asked. "Are you scared?"

"No," Larry replied quickly.

Terry snorted. "Then why did you jump on me like a big baby?" he asked his brother. "You're just scared of the monster."

"What monster?" Bobby asked.

"The one Tank Worthington saw in the preserve," Terry said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. In the darkness, the gesture was unseen by the other boys. "There are no monsters in the game preserve," Bobby stated matter-of-factly. "Catamounts, yes," he said. "Deer? Yes. Ducks? Yes. Foxes. Yes. Weasels. Yes. Monsters? No."

_Cra-a-a-a---SNAP!_

Both Lynch twins jumped at the sudden noise.

"There are no monsters," Bobby repeated emphatically. "We're in the woods. Tree branches fall all the time." Bobby turned towards the direction from which the sound came. He raised the flashlight. "You're both going to feel really dumb being scared of a falling tree branch." Bobby flipped the switch, causing a beam of light to emit from the device. "See?" he said.

"AAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

**Notes: **_Star Wars_ is the property of Lucasfilm. I subscribe to the theory that Dan and Mart are the same age and in the same grade as in _Black Jacket Mystery_, despite what several of the KK's wrote later.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks, again, Mart for helping me out," Dan said as Mart gathered up his jacket. Fall was a busy time on the game preserve and Dan had a lot of wood to chop for the upcoming winter. Mart came over after school to help Dan with this chore, and because of Mart's help, Dan had a little more free time during the weekend.

"Not a problem," Mart replied. He thrust his arms into his jacket sleeves.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for supper?" asked another voice. The voice belonged to Mr. Maypenny, the gamekeeper for the Wheeler's. Dan lived with the gamekeeper in his cabin on his pie-shaped ten-acre parcel of land in the middle of the Wheeler's game preserve.

"I'd love to," Mart replied, "but Moms is making pot roast for supper." Mart headed towards the door. "Speaking of which," he said. "I'd better hurry up. I don't want to be late."

Just as Mart grasped the doorknob in his hand, the phone rang. Mr. Maypenny answered it. "Just a minute," Mart heard him say. The old man held the phone out. "It's for you, Mart," he said.

Mart went over and took the phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Mart, it's your mother."

"I was just on my way out the door, Moms," Mart said.

"Is Bobby over there with you?" she asked him.

Mart frowned into the phone. "No," he said. "He's not. I thought that he was out playing at his tree house"

"That's where he's supposed to be," Moms said. "But he hasn't come home yet. I'm beginning to worry."

"Don't worry, Moms," Mart said. "I'm sure he's okay. You know how Bobby gets when he gets involved in what he's doing. I'll head out there and look for him."

While Mart was talking, Dan looked at his friend with curiosity. Once Mart hung up the phone, Dan said, "I'll give you a hand." He went to a drawer and produced a flashlight of his own, while Mart took his flashlight from his pocket. Dan grabbed his jacket and the boys went outside to begin their search. Mart filled Dan in on what was going on.

"Where should we begin looking?" Dan asked.

"I was going to start with the tree house itself," Mart replied. "Bobby could still be there. And if he wasn't, I doubt that he'd get very far, either."

"Good point," Dan said. The boys went over to the BWG station wagon. Since Brian and Jim went to college, the BWG station wagon divided its idle time between Maypenny's cabin and Crabapple Farm. It would take less time for them to go to Bobby's tree house by car than on foot.

As the car made its way down the dirt road, Dan thanked Mart again for his help this afternoon. "If it weren't for your help," Dan said. "I'd have to cancel my date."

"Date?" Mart asked. "With whom?"

"Kathy Vandervelden," Dan replied.

"Kathy?" Mart asked, surprised. "I didn't think you went for that type."

"What type?" Dan asked. He stopped the car at the crossroad and turned left towards Glen Road.

"You know," Mart replied.

"No," Dan said. "I don't."

"The heavy black eyeliner wearing, always depressed, all in black, worships Morrissey type," Mart replied.

"She's not depressed," Dan pointed out. "And she doesn't wear all black, either."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Mart replied. "Where are you taking her?"

"A double feature of _Night of the Living Dead _and _Return of the Living Dead_," Dan replied. "They're having it at the Odeon in New Rochelle."

"Horror movies on a first date?" Mart wondered. "Aren't you supposed to impress the girl first by taking her out to a fancy dinner?"

"It was her idea," Dan replied.

"Oh," Mart said. Kathy Vandervelden was a strange girl. Mart wondered what it was that compelled Dan to ask her out on a date.

The boys fell silent as the car meandered down the dirt road. Soon, they reached Glen Road and they took that the short distance to Louis Road. The boys ventured down Louis Road to Bobby's tree house. They got out of the car and turned on their flashlights.

"Bobby?" Mart shouted.

Mart's only response was the sound of the falling leaves and the breeze moving the branches back and forth.

"Bobby?" Dan shouted.

Again, no answer.

The boys went over to the tree house itself. Mart climbed up the ladder, with Dan behind him. The older boys managed to fit inside the treehouse. They pointed their flashlights around. Maybe Bobby came up here and he fell asleep. Stranger things have happened to that boy.

There was no Bobby in the tree house. The light just showed Bobby's various collections of things: baseball cards, bottle caps, rocks, twigs, acorns, bark…

"What's this?" Dan asked, pointing his flashlight at a box filled with pastel colored objects. He reached into the box and pulled out a pastel pink horse's head. He examined it and put it back.

"Who knows what goes through my brother's mind?" Mart replied.

Dan pointed his light at an opened shoe box labeled "watter baloons". He made a face when he saw the contents. "Look at this," Dan said.

Mart peered into the box and frowned. "Looks like I'm going to have to have a talk with him about his 'water balloon' collection."

"No offense, Mart," Dan said. "But I think your brother is well on his way to becoming a sociopath."

"I'll have a talk with him," Mart replied.

"In words he can understand, I hope," Dan replied. He pointed his flashlight around the tree house one last time. "He's not here," Dan said. "Where else should we look?"

"The Lynches," Mart said. "Bobby was supposed to be playing with Terry and Larry this afternoon. The Lynches place is the closest to the tree house."

***

"No," Diana said. "I haven't seen the boys, either. The twins should have been home by now. Mother is worried sick" Diana grabbed her jacket. "I'll help you two look."

"Moms is worried, too," Mart said. "We thought that maybe they were at the tree house, but it was empty."

"Can I use the phone?" Dan asked. "I want to call my uncle and let him know what's going on. If the boys are lost in the woods, we're going to need all the help we can get finding them."

"It's in the hall," Diana said. Dan excused himself to call his uncle. In a few minutes, he returned.

"Uncle Bill is going to get a search party together," Dan informed them. "I think we should search on foot this time."

It was decided that Dan, Mart, and Diana would search the woods surrounding the Lynch estate while Harrison, Mr. Lynch, and the Lynches gardener would search the grounds itself. The three Bob-Whites started with the most logical direction: back towards Bobby's tree house.

The only words spoken were the shouts of the boys' names. The trio walked slowly, shining their flashlights in all different directions, making sure that no ground was left uncovered.

Diana spied flashes of light coming towards them. She tapped Mart on the arm. "Look," she said.

"I bet it's them," Mart replied. He began waving his flashlight, hoping it would attract attention. It did. The light came closer to the group and finally stopped when Bobby, Larry, and Terry came to them, out of breath.

"Are you all right?" Diana asked the boys. "You all look like you've seen a monster."

"We did," Larry blurted out. Terry clapped his hand over his brother's mouth. That gesture did not go unnoticed by the older kids.

"We just realized that it was late," Bobby said, out of breath, "so we ran to get home."

"But," Larry protested. "We did!" He looked at his older sister and the older boys. "It was green and scaly and had red eyes!" he said to them earnestly.

"No, it wasn't," Terry said. He exchanged glances with Bobby, which also did not go unnoticed by the teen-agers. "It was just Scotty Doohan. He brought over his Greedo costume to play _Star Wars_ with us."

"But Scotty wasn't—"Larry began. Terry's sharp elbow jab in his twin's ribcage silenced him. The teen-agers exchanged looks again.

"Why don't we get you boys home," Diana suggested. "Mother and Daddy are worried about you."

"And Moms and Dad are worried about you, too," Mart said to Bobby.

"You can tell us all about it once your parents know you're safe," Dan added. "You all had a lot of people worried about you, you know."

Once back at the Lynch estate, a phone call was made to the Belden's, letting them know that Bobby was found safe. Helen, Peter, and Trixie arrived at the Lynches not long after. Miss Trask and the Wheelers, having heard that the small boys were missing, also came over to see for themselves that they were safe. The group was also joined by Regan and Tom Delanoy, the Wheeler's chauffeur. Regan had made it as far as Tom and Celia's trailer when Dan called with the news that Bobby and the Lynch twins were found.

Mrs. Lynch invited everyone to stay for supper and they all accepted. Mrs. Belden had put her roast away to be reheated later. Talk turned right away to the whereabouts of the little boys.

"We saw a monster," Larry stated. Bobby and Terry shot Larry a look meant to silence him.

"A monster?" Regan asked the boys.

"Yeah," Larry said, ignoring the other boys' looks.

"What kind of monster?" Regan asked.

"It was big and green and scaly and it had these scary red eyes," Larry replied.

The teen-agers and adults all exchanged glances. "Are you sure it wasn't your mind playing tricks on you?" Mrs. Lynch asked her son. She was aware of the boy's vivid imagination.

"No, Mother," Larry said.

"Maybe it was a forest animal or a stray dog or something like that," Miss Trask suggested. "Sometimes when you're scared, you're mind tricks you into thinking that something that isn't scary really is scary."

"Yeah," Terry agreed quickly. "That's probably what it was."

"Whatever it was," Regan said. "I'll look for it."

"I'll look for it, too," Tom added. "We can't have stray animals scaring little kids."

After supper, Mr. and Mrs. Belden took Bobby home. The other adults also went home. However, the Bob-Whites stayed behind at Mart's insistence. "Emergency Bob-White meeting," he said.

Once the teenagers were ensconced in Mr. Lynch's study, Trixie asked, "What's all this about?"

"Didn't you notice something strange about the boys?" Mart asked.

"I did," Honey replied. "It looked like they were hiding something from us."

"And trying to act brave for our benefit," Diana added. "They saw something out there."

"You heard Regan and Miss Trask," Trixie replied. "It was probably nothing more than a stray animal. You know how those kids' minds like to run away with them. For all we know," she added. "It was Lester Mundy playing another one of his practical jokes."

The other Bob-Whites exchanged surreptitious glances with each other upon hearing Trixie's reply. Something didn't seem right.

"Are you okay, Trixie?" Mart asked.

"Fine," Trixie replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," Mart replied.

******

Over the next week, Sleepyside became abuzz with exciting news. It wasn't about the Wildcat's surprising trouncing of the Sleepy Hollow Ghost Riders, ruining the Ghost Riders' Homecoming game. It wasn't about the upcoming costume party that the Third Hand Gang was throwing the weekend of Halloween. And it wasn't about Mr. Wendtlandt getting pulled over in front of the school on a Thursday morning by Spider Webster for making an illegal U-turn in an intersection. Mr. Wendtlandt's "bust" happened as students arrived that morning for classes and was witnessed by all.

Sleepyside was abuzz with the rumor that there was _something_ seen wandering the woods outside of town. Every day, in the lunch room, people speculated as to what exactly it was that was seen. Most people thought it was a wild animal that wandered down from the Catskills. Others thought it had more human-like qualities. Yet, others thought that maybe it was Lester Mundy playing one of his practical jokes. Lester swore up and down that it wasn't him this time.

Mart, however, was more worried about the lack of interest his sister seemed to show towards the situation. The girl who always insisted something mysterious was going on and who insisted on jumping right on in to the situation just wasn't interested. Mart wondered what was going on, if something was on his sister's mind. This same girl swore up and down that she saw a shark in the Hudson River last year.

Talk at the Bob-White table turned to speculation as to what it was people were seeing. Trixie didn't participate in the speculation. The other Bob-Whites became concerned. But it was Mart that finally asked again what was up.

"Nothing," Trixie replied.

"Nothing?" Mart asked.

"Are you sure, Trix?" Honey asked. "You don't seem yourself, lately."

"I'm fine," Trixie insisted, slightly annoyed. "Why do you think something is wrong with me?"

Diana leaned in, speaking low so the other students couldn't hear her. "Well," she said. "There are mysterious goings-on lately and, honestly, you don't seem all that interested. Usually, you're the first one to jump in and find out what's going on and then we basically tell you that you're full of crap, but you never let that stop you."

"Honestly, Trix," Mart replied. "We're kind of worried."

"I'm fine," Trixie said again. "Besides, there's no mystery. There's talk of a monster roaming around, but the only people we know of who've seen it were a drunken football player and three little boys with vivid imaginations. We're the Bob-Whites, not the gang from Scooby-Doo. The only thing we have in common with them is that we have our own transportation."

"And a member whose always hungry," Honey added with a teasing look at Mart.

"Sure," Mart replied, clutching his chest in an exaggerated manner. "Go for the obvious. You wound me, Honey Wheeler. You truly wound me."

"You know," Diana said. "If we're like the Scooby gang, which ones are we?"

"There is no way I'm Fred," Dan said emphatically. "I have not, do not, and will not ever wear an ascot."

"You'd look ridiculous as a blonde, too," Diana pointed out.

"Yeah," Honey agreed. "You wouldn't look good as a blonde, Dan. Don't you agree, Trixie?"

Trixie studied Dan closely. "Nope," she said. "You definitely would not look good as a blonde. But," she added. "What I want to know is which one of us would be Scooby-Doo?"

The other Bob-Whites looked around in confusion. They saw the mischievous gleam in Trixie's eye and laughed.

"Seriously, you guys," Trixie said. "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."

"Good," Honey said.

Mart wasn't convinced. "If you're sure," Mart said. "You being disinterested in something mysterious going on causes me to question if something catastrophic and unbelievable hasn't happened to upset the natural order of things."

"I'm sure," Trixie said.

"If something was wrong, you'd tell us," Mart said.

"Yes, Mart," Trixie said. "I'll tell you. But really, I'm fine." She pushed her chair out, stood up, and picked up her lunch tray. "I have to go to the library and study for my geometry test." Trixie pushed her chair back in. "See you guys later." With that, Trixie left the cafeteria. The other Bob-Whites stared at her departing figure.

"Something's not right," Mart stated emphatically to the others. "And I'm going to find out what that is."

***

_Ri-i-i-i-i-i-ng_

Sergeant Wendell Molinson picked up the telephone receiver. "Sleepyside Police Department, Sgt. Molinson speaking."

"Uh, hello, Sergeant? I'd like to make a report."

Sgt. Molinson picked up a form and his pen, holding his pen over the paper, ready to write. "Name?"

"Daryl Showalter."

Sergeant Molinson wrote down Daryl's name. "Address?" he asked.

"302 West Miller Avenue."

Sergeant Molinson wrote down Daryl's address. "What's the problem, Mr. Showalter."

"Something's been in my garbage."

_Probably a raccoon, _the sergeant thought to himself. "Have you called animal control?" he asked.

"It wasn't an animal," Daryl Showalter replied. "I got my garbage cans fenced in so animals can't get into it. Unless there's some mutant raccoon on steroids, someone lifted up my garbage can and tipped it over."

"Have you noticed any suspicious activity around your house?" Sergeant Molinson asked.

"Not really," Daryl Showalter replied.

"Well, Mr. Showalter, it was probably nothing more than some kids with nothing better to do," Sergeant Molinson said. "I'll make a note of it, but if you see something suspicious, let us know, okay?"

"Thanks, Sergeant," Daryl Showalter replied.

***

Dan got a break from wood chopping that afternoon by taking Spartan on a ride through the game preserve. Lately, Mr. Maypenny had been riding the patrols while Dan, younger and stronger, did the heavy work. Dan was grateful for the break. Even with Mart's help, it was still a long and strenuous job. His muscles should have been used to the heavy work by now, but Dan woke up with new little aches in places he didn't know he had. The physical work was paying off, he thought with a touch of satisfaction. Some of the girls at school who didn't pay much attention to him before were starting to notice him.

Thoughts of girls turned towards one girl. His date last Friday with Kathy Vandervelden went well. Dan found Kathy to be funny and quite charming, despite her Goth appearance and her general quirkiness. Dan was taking her to the Homecoming Dance on Saturday night. If things went well with that date, Dan was hoping to take Kathy to the Third Hand Gang's costume party in a couple of weeks.

The afternoon was sunny and Dan could smell that musty, warm, woodsy smell of the fallen leaves. He inhaled deeply, savoring it. It was a homey, comforting smell. Dan held Spartan's reins in one hand and rode easily down the sun dappled trail, content to think about home, school, girls, and all the other simple pleasures of life.

Spartan suddenly shied from something along the trail, jarring Dan from his thoughts. His hands gripped the reins and he spoke to the horse to calm him down. Dan stopped the horse, dismounted, and tied him to a tree. Dan doubled back, following Spartan's hoof prints to the spot where the horse shied away. Dan found an empty beer can near the spot where his horse was spooked. Dan wasn't far from Louis Road and the spot where all the after-game beer parties took place. Dan made a mental note to come back with garbage bags to pick up the litter here before Bobby Belden could add it to his many "collections".

As Dan started walking back towards Spartan, something caught his eye. It was an indentation in the ground, almost like a footprint. It stood out among the footprints left by the partiers. Dan had never seen a shoe that looked like this one. He wondered how someone could go walking through the woods wearing shoes with smooth soles. Dan himself wore work boots with lug soles when he was out in the preserve. Unlike Dan's boots, there was not a definitive heel to them. There were, Dan noticed, strange toes on these shoes. They almost looked like they were those split-toed ninja shoes, or tabi boots, except that the placement of the split was too long and off placement.

Dan noticed that the footprints went off towards the direction of Louis Road. He followed them through the woods until he met the dead-end road, where the footprints stopped. Dan then crossed the road, but he found that the footprints did not reappear on the other side of the road.

Dan stared at the other side of the road, perplexed. Whoever it was probably had a car or truck parked on the side of Louis Road. But who would wear tabi ninja boots out in the woods? Poachers?

Ninja poachers in the game preserve?

Dan laughed out loud at that idea. _You've been watching too many ninja movies with Mart._

Dan sobered. Strange footwear or not, if there was a poacher in the game preserve, that was serious business. He'd have to let Mr. Maypenny and the Wheelers know so the offending person could be caught. Then another thought occurred to him. _Maybe this elusive monster in the preserve is nothing more than a poacher._ _Maybe that's what the boys saw the other night. Maybe Tank Worthington saw a poacher._

_

* * *

_**Notes: **Scooby-Doo is the property of Hanna-Barbera.


End file.
